


Haunted

by thebearking



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes-centric, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Other, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: Bucky has gladly accepted his role as your stabilizer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> gender-neutral reader who was an asset of hydra like bucky. requested on my tumblr @pickledmoon.

Over the last few years, in his time living with the Avengers, Bucky had become a light sleeper. He functioned on no less than five hours of sleep each night, and any less left him grumpy and groggy the next morning—which was undesirable for himself and for the rest of the team. Because he was a light sleeper, it took him several minutes to actually fall into a deep sleep, and the slightest sound could wake him.

That’s why when he heard the door to his bedroom creak open, his eyes shot open, taking a moment to focus on the intruder. He only half-expected to see you, standing near the doorway and wringing the hem of your sleepshirt in your hands. You looked ready for bed, but the haunted look in your eye told him you were far from slumber.

“What are you doing up, doll?” he asked carefully, sitting up and palming his face tiredly. He could guess why you were here, but he wanted to make sure. He glanced over at his bedside clock. “It’s one AM.”

You grimaced, shuffling over to him silently but for the rustle of your socked feet across Bucky’s carpet floors. He sat still while you crawled over him to the side of his bed closest to the wall, where you knew he preferred for you to sleep. He wanted to be closer to the door—not for escape purposes, but for your protection. He held his breath as you moved over his lap, your soft frame brushing his ever so slightly, your shoulder grazing his chest and hands momentarily gripping his thigh for balance. After a few moments of shifting, you were tucked under his blankets and curled up against his side, your body curved in on itself in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky sighed and lay down on his side to face you. Your eyes were nearly closed, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and he wondered how you managed to make yourself so small, your form curled into a tight and anxious comma, angled toward him but avoiding his eyes. He wondered what your nightmare had been this time, whether it was torture or drowning or the faces of civilian casualties. All of these had bothered you before, and each time, you came to Bucky. Like him, Hydra had used you, brainwashed you into a mindless killer, one who torched hospitals and sliced Hydra’s enemies to ribbons. Bucky understood the pain, the guilt, and he didn’t ask questions, though he wanted to. He wanted to know what he could do to help, if you should sleep in his bed every night so he could watch over you. He wouldn’t mind losing sleep if it meant keeping you safe, keeping you stable. The thought of him stabilizing another person had seemed impossible years ago, but not now—not when you crawled into his bed nearly every night, sought him out in the dark until he would hold you in his arms, lulling you to sleep with the beat of his slow and heavy heart.

He spoke your name once, twice, almost inaudibly. On the third time, you finally scooted closer to him, into his open arms, and settled comfortably with half of your body on top of his, with your cheek pressed into his chest, with your fingers clutching feebly at his shirt.

“Goodnight, Buck,” you mumbled, slowly tangling your legs with his.

Bucky exhaled deeply against the crown of your head, rubbing your back in small circles. He didn’t reply until you had gone completely limp against him, your breaths slowing with sleep. He touched his lips to your forehead, held them there for a few beats, then let his head flop back against his pillow. “Goodnight.”


End file.
